


Mirror Man

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Agatha is dating Baz, Alternate Canon, Baz Is Missing, Baz is the oblivious one, Baz pov, Canon Era, Canon Setting, Canon Universe, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, M/M, Penny has had it, Role Reversal, Role Swap, Simon POV, Simon is pining, Simon is the one pining, eighth year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: Written for the Carry On Countdown prompt Role Swap. Simon returns for eighth year at Watford but to his dismay the roommate he's been pining over for three years is nowhere to be found. Simon searches for Baz, avoids Agatha and tries to come to terms with the long-term feelings he has for his missing roommate.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559566
Comments: 40
Kudos: 225
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Mirror Man

**Author's Note:**

> Carry On Countdown Day 2 Role Swap

**Mirror Man**

  
  


**Simon**

I run up the stairs to our room. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Baz never gets to Watford this early. 

I do. Every time. I check myself out of care the day Watford opens the gates for the new school year. 

Baz always shows up the night before classes start. 

I just thought . . . I hoped . . . well, I suppose I really wanted this year to be different. That he’d come early, to savour our last year here. That I’d get a few more days with him. 

The room is empty when I open the door. It doesn’t even smell like Baz anymore. 

It smells a bit like the dirty socks I forgot in the corner. 

He’s obviously not here. 

I open the window to air out the room. Baz always fusses about the window but I don’t think he’d argue today--it’s warm and there’s a breeze. 

And it might make the sock smell go away before he gets here. 

I think about incinerating the socks but I don’t trust my spells yet. It’s hard after the months in care. 

It’s hard in general. My spells are never reliable. It’s always hit or miss. Mostly miss.

I think about tossing my socks in the moat so the merwolves can choke on them, but that’s not being ecologically responsible so I end up washing them in the sink. 

I put away the few things I brought with me from the home and hang up my new uniform. 

And then I lie down on my bed and think about Baz.

Grey eyes. 

Black hair.

That Baz is a vampire. 

The fact that Baz Pitch is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. 

And I’m hopelessly in love with him. 

Emphasis on the hopeless part. 

Baz hates me. He’s hated me since the day we met--the day the Crucible brought us together. 

He hates me for being the Mage’s Heir. For doing the Mage’s bidding. He despises me for being so thick and such shit with my magic. For how I look, how I talk, the way I eat, the fact that I keep the window open at night. 

For everything, I think.  
  
I thought I hated him too. I thought that was why I watched him all the time. Why I followed him, why I sparked the arguments with him, the reason I couldn’t let him out of my sight. 

It was fifth year when I finally realized how I felt. The night I followed Baz into the Catacombs and found him by his mother’s tomb. Drinking from a flask and saying . . . saying things that made me rethink _everything_. 

I stopped following him to the Catacombs after that. Even if he is a vampire, he still deserves privacy to grieve at his mother’s tomb undisturbed. 

I stopped following him at all. For awhile. 

I didn’t know what to think. And I couldn’t stop thinking. 

About Baz.

The way his hair had fallen out of its usual slicked back severity that night to fall in waves that framed his face. 

I liked that.  
  
I liked it a lot.

Or how his eyes had been half-lidded, his body relaxed as he rested against the stone wall of the Catacombs, his cheekbones highlighted by the flickering torchlight. 

He was beautiful. 

I’d never thought of him that way before but once I did, I couldn’t stop. 

I wanted to touch his hair. Sweep it behind his ear and trail my fingers along his jaw. I wanted to look into his eyes and have all his focus be on me, to see his gaze soften as our eyes met.

I still want that. 

That and a whole lot of other things. 

I’m being stupid, of course. None of that will ever happen. 

Baz can’t stand me. He barely tolerates sharing a room with me, if I’m going to be honest. 

And even if he didn’t hate me, he’s dating the most beautiful girl at Watford. 

Which means he’s straight. 

He’s been with Agatha since the end of fifth year. They’re breathtaking together--her milky gold hair set off by his dark mane. 

They match--both posh, both wrenchingly beautiful, both comfortable in the world of Mages, confident of their place in it. 

And then there’s me. Simon Snow. Orphan. Filled with magic I can’t control. A weapon to fight the dark creatures that threaten our world. The Mage’s protege. 

With a future that can only end in flames. 

I’m supposed to be Baz’s nemesis. 

I’m not supposed to be pining over him.

I look over at his empty bed, the way I’ve looked at it countless times over the past years, when Baz was actually in it. 

This is our last year at Watford.  
  
This is our last year _together_. 

These are the last few months I’ll ever have a chance to be this close to Baz Pitch. 

Fuck it all. 

I should probably quit moping and go find Penny. Stop obsessing over a boy I’ll never have. 

It doesn’t stop me from picking up Baz’s pillow as I walk by his bed. I breathe in the faint hint of cedar and bergamot that clings to the fabric before I leave the room. 

The days pass and Baz doesn’t come. He isn’t at tea when the first Visiting occurs. He’s not at the welcome-back picnic. 

He isn’t in our room the night before the term starts and he doesn’t show up for classes the next day. 

Or the day after that. 

The professors stop calling out his name after the first week. 

The rumors that fly through the dining hall are varied and absurd.

He’s gone off for a dark coming of age ritual. 

He’s left Watford to work for his father. 

He’s apprenticed himself to an herbalist, like his crazy aunt. 

He’s vacationing in Ibiza. 

I don’t believe any of it. Baz would never miss school. He wouldn’t leave eighth year unfinished. 

He’d certainly never let Penny finish first in our class. 

He wouldn’t abandon his mother’s legacy. 

Baz wouldn’t do any of that. I know him. I think I know him better than anyone. 

And I think something’s very, very wrong. 

I start stalking his best friends Dev and Niall. I pester them with questions and harass them about Baz but I don’t think they know any more than I do. They’re vague and insulting when I corner them but there’s a hint of worry in their eyes when I do. 

Agatha’s taken to sitting with Penny and me for meals now that Baz is gone, but she won’t answer any of my questions about him. 

“I don’t want to talk about him, Simon. I don’t know where he is. I’m not his keeper.”

She sits next to me in class. She gives me the smiles she used to save for Baz. 

It feels all wrong. 

I scour the Catacombs for any sign of him. It’s overrun with rats down there, which tells me all I need to know. I won’t find him there.

I comb the Wavering Wood for clues. I hack at the underbrush and hack off the resident Dryad when I do. 

“What do you seek, Chosen One?”

“I’m looking for my roommate, Baz.”

She glares at me as she twirls her parasol. “The blood-eater is not here, Mageling. Seek him elsewhere.”

“I’ve searched everywhere.”

“Then perhaps he doesn’t want you to find him.”

“Listen, if you do see him, could you let me know?”

“He is not here and you are a menace.” She turns away and floats back into the dimness of the forest. 

Typical. 

I see Agatha on the ramparts a few days later. I follow her up. I wonder if she’s waiting for Baz.

If she’s yearning for him like I am. 

She’s a lovely sight, leaning over the walls, her hair streaming in the wind, her pale face lit by the moon. 

She’s a vision in her white dress. 

She’s also probably freezing. It’s cold up here. 

Agatha turns when she hears my footsteps on the stones. Her eyes are wide and dark as she smiles at me. 

It’s that smile. The one she used to have just for Baz. 

“Were you looking for me, Simon?”

I wasn’t, not in the way she thinks at least. 

I’m starting to get the idea that Agatha might be hoping I was searching for her. 

I’ve probably given her a reason to think that. I’ve watched her with Baz for so long. Watched him take her hand, stared at her fingers as she curled a strand of his hair around her finger, seen her lean in close to whisper to him. Adjust his already perfectly knotted tie. 

I’ve watched her do every single thing I’ve wanted to do to Baz since fifth year. 

I’ve got a list. 

And for the first time I realize I may have been giving Agatha the wrong impression. That she’s taken those longing looks and stares and assumed they were _for her_. 

My stomach clenches at the thought. Merlin, I’ve made a mess of this. I never meant to lead her on. 

I think back to the last time I saw Baz. 

He was in the Wavering Wood--holding Agatha’s hands in his and staring at her so intently. 

The way I wish he’d look at me.

I’d made a sound I think, as Penny clutched my arm, and they’d both turned to look at me--Baz’s gaze turning right back to Agatha in an instant, dismissing me in a way that made my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. 

But Agatha had stared back at me--long and steady, almost appraising. 

I didn’t know how she could take her eyes off of Baz, how she could turn away from him. 

I never could. I’d never look away. I’d never turn my back on him.

But then the Humdrum had snatched me away before I could embarrass myself any further. 

Agatha’s still waiting for an answer from me. 

“Uh . . . um . . . I was just wondering why you were wandering the ramparts.” The next words come out before I think them through. “Are you waiting for Baz?”

Her smile turns into a frown. “I’ve told you, Simon. I’m not his keeper. I’m not waiting for him. Not anymore.”

I’m not sure what she means by that. 

“Then why are you up here? You don’t even have a coat. It’s bloody cold, Agatha.”

It is. The wind is icy and there’s been a distinct chill in the air all day. I see a shiver run through her as the next gust of wind washes over us. 

I take off my duffel coat and drape it over her shoulders. She makes an attempt to protest but sinks into it gratefully when I insist, shoving her hands deep in the pockets. There’s a flash of white in her hand as she does, a piece of fabric clutched between her fingers. 

“I just needed to clear my head,” Agatha says, leaning on the ramparts again, her shoulder brushing mine. 

“And did you?” I don’t know why I’m making small talk but I can’t just leave when she’s wearing my coat, now can I?

Agatha turns to me, reaching out her hand to take mine. “I did.”

I’m not sure what she’s doing. Her fingers are cold as they thread between my own.

“I’ve been thinking, Simon.”

I swallow but I don’t have anything to say. I have the distinct feeling I’ve gotten myself into a situation here. And I’m likely to bollocks it up even further, knowing me. 

“Thinking about you. And me. And Baz.”

Merlin and Morgana. It may be cold up here but I break into a sweat at her words. Can she know how I feel about Baz? 

Bloody hell. 

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Simon, but Baz and I broke up at the end of the school year.”

This is news to me. 

“I didn’t . . . I hadn’t realized.” My mind is racing. Is that what was happening that day in the Wavering Wood? Had Baz broken up with her? 

“No, I suppose you hadn’t.” She squeezes my hand. “You’re such a dear, you know.”

I’m starting to feel very uncomfortable.

“I made some realizations that day and came to the decision that Baz and I really weren’t suited for each other.” 

She _broke up_ with Baz? Who would break up with _Baz_?

I drop her hand. “Is that why he hasn’t come back?” I can’t quite keep the accusatory tone out of my voice.

“I’ve no idea. I haven’t spoken to him.” She flips her hair back. “I honestly don’t think he was all that upset about it. It wasn’t as if we were in love, or anything. We just sort of drifted together in the first place and then drifted apart. It happens.”

I blink. “But . . . but . . . you and Baz, you’re not . . . you aren’t . . .” I’m blustering. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Agatha broke up with Baz. 

Baz, the boy I’ve loved for three years. 

Baz, who hates me.

Baz, _who’s missing_.

“It was nice while it lasted, Simon, but it’s not like Baz is the only boy at Watford.”

 _He’s the only one for me,_ I think. 

Agatha reaches out and puts her hand on my wrist. “We should go in, Simon. I’m sure you’re freezing.” She hooks her arm around mine and tugs me towards the stairs. 

I’m in a daze. I’m not really paying much attention to what Agatha is saying until we’re at the bottom of the steps. Mummers is to our left and the Cloisters to our right. This is where we should part ways. 

“It’s been nice sitting with you and Penny and getting a chance to get to know you.” She squeezes my arm as she says this and I’m on alert again. “I’d like to get to know you better.” It’s almost a purr and she’s smiling that smile at me again.

Oh. 

“Ah . . . yeah . . . it’s been nice getting to know you too.” I’m stumbling over my words. “Uh . . . and for Penny too. It’s nice for her to have another friend.”

“Hmm. Yes, of course. _Friends_.” She draws the word out as she looks up at me from under her lashes and she’s a vision--all golden hair, deep brown eyes, milky skin. She’s gorgeous but all I feel is a sense of dread.

I have the distinct impression Baz’s ex-girlfriend is hitting on me. Which is not what I want in the slightest. 

Fuck. This is all my fault. I was right--I’ve given Agatha the wrong impression. She’s obviously convinced I’ve been pining over her, rather than Baz. What a bloody mess. How do I manage to always bollocks things up?

I need to get out of here. Find a way to brush her off without pissing her off as well. _Good luck with that_. I’m shit with words. 

“Uh . . . so I’ll see you tomorrow then?” I’m so stupid. That’s encouraging her. Merlin, I am absolute pants at this. 

“Yes, I’d like that.” 

Oh fuck. Tomorrow is Saturday. I wouldn’t have to see her at all and now I just put my foot in it. I’m a fucking disaster. How do I do this to myself? 

“Um . . . see you at breakfast then.” I’m trying to minimize the damage. Maybe that’ll work. I unhook my arm from hers and take a few steps towards Mummers.

“Oh, Simon! Your coat.” Agatha starts to shrug out of it.

“No, it’s alright. You wear it. You’ve got the longer walk.”

Her lips curve up again. I know it’s supposed to be attractive but it just makes me more agitated. 

She pulls the collar of my coat up, _snuggles into it_ and says “Smells like you. Like a bonfire. Warm and cozy.” 

And that’s it. I can’t have her keeping my coat. I can’t have her snuggling in it and looking at me this way and thinking about me like that. 

“Um . . . why don’t I just walk you back now and I can take it with me then?”

That makes her look even happier. 

Fuck. 

She takes my arm again, pulling me close, and we start to walk towards the Cloisters, Agatha chatting at me the whole way there. 

She’s talking about Christmas and the Club and the parties her parents have for the holiday. I catch about half of what she’s saying. 

I can’t really pay attention. My brain has short-circuited at the idea that Agatha might be attracted to me.

I need to put a stop to this. I’ve accidentally led her on but now that I suspect she’s got an interest in me I can’t let it keep going.

Mostly because I’m not attracted to her that way. 

But also because I know how hurt Baz would be to know Agatha turned her attention to me, after breaking it off with him. 

Likely more furious than hurt. It would make him hate me even more. 

It feels disloyal to him to even be walking with her this way--arm in arm, her head practically resting on my shoulder. 

It’s a relief when we finally reach the Cloisters and Agatha slides my coat off. She hugs it to her for one instant before handing it back and my stomach plummets. 

I put it on and busy myself with the buttons, backing away from the door as I do.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Simon.”  
  
“See you at breakfast, yeah.” And then I make a run for it, literally jogging across the courtyard to Mummers and taking the steps two at a time to get to m

Bloody hell. That’s all I need now, Agatha taking a fancy to me. What a disaster. I jam my hands in my coat pockets as I walk to my wardrobe. 

There’s something in the left hand pocket. I pull out a wadded bit of cloth. 

It’s one of Baz’s handkerchiefs. I’d know it anywhere. It’s got his family crest on it: flames, the moon, three falcons. I clench it in my hand. 

It’s what Agatha was holding. 

I know there are half a dozen just like it in the drawer across the room but this one feels precious to me. I bring it up to my face and inhale. 

It smells like Baz. 

I’ll make this right with Agatha tomorrow. I’ll figure out what to do, what to say, to stop whatever she thinks is going on.

I tuck the handkerchief under my pillow. 

Distancing myself from Agatha isn’t as easy as I’d hoped. She sits next to me at mealtimes. She’s in more than half my classes. 

I’ve taken to studying in the room because she comes to the library to sit with me and Penny now. I’m sure it’s going to affect my marks, not studying with Penny, but it’s too awkward having Agatha there. 

She bumped her leg against mine today and then _kept it there_. 

I had to pretend to go look for a book in the stacks when shifting away from her didn’t work. 

I should just tell her. 

Not that I fancy Baz. I’m not telling anyone that. I haven’t even told Penny. 

No, I’ll have to tell Agatha I don’t think of her that way. Which I’m sure will sound absolutely lame and ridiculous, as she’s the most gorgeous girl in school and the rest of the blokes would likely kill for a chance to date her, now that she’s not with Baz anymore. 

I still wonder about that. I can’t imagine why she broke it off with him. I mean, yes, he’s a snide arsehole and an arrogant prick but he’s never been that way with her. He’s all courtly and chivalrous, polite and attentive. He’s fit and smart and posh as hell. An Old Family name and Old Family money. Quite the catch and drop-dead gorgeous to boot. 

It doesn’t make sense. 

Maybe it’s the vampire thing. But surely she knew before now? She couldn’t be dating him for three years and not know, could she? 

I mean, I know. 

And yes, fine, it’s not _confirmed_ or anything. I haven’t caught him in the act of draining a rat. I don’t have proof, photographs, a written confession--all the things Penny demands as evidence. 

But I _know._

And I don’t care. 

Really, I don’t. 

He’s not that kind of vampire. I know he doesn’t go after people. It’s rats and rabbits and squirrels. It’s probably just enough for him to get by. He doesn’t even go after Ebb’s goats and they’re easy prey.

Except Ebb would likely incinerate him on the spot. She’s tetchy about the goats. 

Baz has had every opportunity to drain me dry and he hasn’t--and it’s not just the Anathema that’s keeping him from it. He could easily have done it in the Catacombs. Or in the Wavering Wood. Fed me to the merwolves when he was done with me and blamed my absence on one of the Mage’s missions gone wrong. No one would have known. 

But he hasn’t. 

That has to mean something.

I know I was an arse about it fourth and fifth year. I’d shout about Baz being a vampire to anyone who would listen. 

No one really did. They all thought I was mental. 

And then, that night, when I saw him in the Catacombs by his mother’s tomb--that’s when I knew I was right. 

I'd seen the freshly drained rats in the corner. I could see, even by torchlight, that his face had more color to it. 

It was all the circumstantial evidence I’d been seeking but it felt hollow when I had it in my grasp. 

I’d turned away. Left him there. Left him and went straight to the library.

To the Magickal Records. 

To read everything I could about Natasha Pitch. And how she died. 

It made sense then. They’d Turned Baz that day. It wasn’t written out anywhere or mentioned at all. 

But knowing Baz, seeing him in the Catacombs, hearing what he said, reading the accounts--it isn’t that hard to piece it together. He was Turned the day his mother died. 

He was a child and they killed his mother and _Turned him_. I’d happily incinerate the lot of them if Natasha Pitch hadn’t done it already.

Baz has been hiding it ever since. He’s been trying to live his life as a Mage and repress that other side of him. 

All the pieces fell into place. Why he was so secretive. Why having a roommate--any roommate--would be torture for him. Why he kept his distance from almost everyone in our class. Except Dev and Niall, who are basically family or close to it.

And Agatha. 

All I did was make life more miserable for him. 

So I’d stopped. Stopped accusing him of being a vampire. Stopped following him down to the Catacombs. Stopped picking fights with him about every little thing. 

But I couldn’t stop watching him. Couldn’t stop trying to stay close to him. 

Couldn’t risk something happening to him.

Or the chance that someone would find out what he is. Especially the Mage.

I suppose you could say I was _watching over him_. That sounds better than stalking, I think. 

We’d not been at each other’s throats by seventh year. We had a pattern. A way of moving around each other, navigating the spaces in our room, our interactions distant but almost civil. 

It was what had made me so hopeful for this year. That maybe Baz was as tired of fighting as I was. That the first steps we’d taken last year might take us on a path to something different. 

Not what I longed for but maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to be _friends._

But he’s not here. 

He’s not here and every day feels like the emptiness he’s left behind grows bigger. 

It’s a weight on my chest, like I can’t take in a deep enough breath, as if there’s not enough air for me to breathe anymore. 

The days pass. 

I stop looking for Baz. 

I know it’s not his step on the stairs. I know he’s not in the seat behind me in class. I know it’s not his feet rustling the leaves in the Wavering Wood (he’s much stealthier than that).

I know it’s not him on the football pitch. 

He’s nowhere he should be and _that hurts_. 

I avoid Agatha as best I can. I’ve taken to avoiding meals just so I don’t have to sit with her. Or I’ll just rush in, stuff my face for a few moments at the table, and then rush off to my room with a few bacon butties or scones in my hand. 

Penny thinks I’m being ridiculous. “Just tell her you’re not interested, Simon.” She kicks my leg under the table. Agatha left breakfast early to finish her Political Science essay so Penny and I are finally, blissfully alone. “You’re not a good match, so just tell her already and let’s stop this hide and seek you’re playing.”

“I’m not playing hide and seek.”

“You practically run out of the room when she comes in and then she’s wandering around looking for you. It’s aggravating, Simon.”

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Penny glares at me over her glasses. “You think it’s any better leading her on like this?"

I groan. “I don’t mean to lead her on, Penny. I thought she’d get the hint by now.”

Penny’s eyes narrow. “Communication, Simon. You can’t expect people to read your mind. Just tell her it’s a bad idea and move on.”

She’s right. 

Confrontation unnerves me. This kind, I mean, the kind I can’t solve with my sword. 

I’m good at confronting goblins and orc-upines and all manner of dark creatures, but I’m shit at talking about things like this. Feelings. Relationships. I’ve just got no clue how to go about it and I’m sure I’ll bollocks it up. I’m shit with words.

I grab fistfuls of my hair and groan again. “You’re right, Penny. I know. I’ll figure out a way to tell her.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, Simon. It’s just a short conversation. _‘Agatha, I just want to be friends.’_ That’s it.”

“Ugh. I know.” I pull on my hair again. “Did I tell you she’s invited me home with her for Christmas?”

“Simon, you know you can’t go.”

“Of course, I’m not going to go. I’ll go back to the home, like I always do.”

Her eyes soften and she reaches across the table to take my hand. “I wish I could bring you home with me, Simon, you know I do.”

I squeeze her hand. “I know you do, Pen. You all barely fit as it is. You don’t need me sleeping in your bathtub.” I’m trying to lighten the mood. I know Penny hates the idea of me being in the homes. She was going to write a stern letter to the Mage about it fifth year but I wouldn’t let her. 

“I’d sleep in the bathtub if it came to that, Simon. But Mum’s told me I can’t bring you, even if I spell you invisible. It’s just too much.”

I know it’s my magic. And me, in general. I put Professor Bunce on edge. 

She’s sensitive to the overabundance of magic in me and it gives her a headache. And I’m generally in the way: knocking over stacks of books or messing up her papers or making a bollocks of a spell. It’s an effort to have me there for a weekend. 

There’s no way she could tolerate me for all of Winter Break. 

I can’t say Agatha’s offer isn’t tempting. I’ve never spent Christmas with _people._ In a house with a real tree and a fireplace and a holiday meal and people who actually like each other sitting around a table together. 

There’s usually just a pathetic fake tree at the homes, with donated gifts beneath it, and a shoddy Santa on Christmas Day for the little ‘uns. 

We usually get a sham of a Christmas dinner. Turkey and gravy, a dollop of lumpy mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts and then a pudding of sorts. There’s still never enough to make me feel full. 

So I can’t say it’s not tempting. It is. More than Penny can imagine. But it’s not fair to Agatha to take her up on the offer. 

If she were Penny I’d do it a heartbeat. But things are already far too awkward with Agatha and I can’t go under false pretences. I don’t want to be her boyfriend. 

And I think she’ll rescind the offer when I tell her all I want is to be friends. 

It’s fine. I’ve spent every Christmas of my life in the homes so far and I can manage one more. It’ll be the last one anyway. 

I’m on my own once I graduate from Watford. Out of the care system forever. 

I’m buttering another scone when the doors to the dining hall fly open. At first I think it’s another Visiting but when the figure steps through the doors my heart thumps hard enough to almost burst out of my chest. 

I know that face. I know it as well as my own. 

Black hair.

Grey eyes.

Baz. 

I stand up, knocking my chair over. Penny clutches at my sleeve. 

He doesn’t look right. He’s too thin. Too grey. 

He’s limping. 

Baz.

_Baz._

Our eyes meet. 

It takes everything in me to keep from running to him. Penny’s fingers are digging into my forearm. I think she’s going to leave bruises. 

He’s not looking away. 

I could never look away.

  
  


**Baz**

Snow is the first person I see, making as much of a racket as usual, surging to his feet and knocking over a chair as he does, the clumsy oaf.

I feel like I can breathe again at the sight of him. Something loosens in my chest at the familiarity of his face. Those ordinary blue eyes. Bronze curls in a tangled mess. 

Our eyes meet and I can’t look away.

I don’t know why my gaze always targets him. No matter who else is in the room, I find myself seeking out Snow. 

He’s thin. He shouldn’t be so thin. He looks as worn and strained as he does on the first day of term. This isn’t how Snow should look. His cheeks should be filled out by now, from the mountains of butter-slathered scones he’s devoured, the stacks of roast beef sandwiches he’s inhaled, the endless piles of bacon butties he loves. 

I look like shit myself, if Fiona is any judge. I know I’m thin, frightfully pale and saddled with this ungainly limp still. Fuck the bloody numpties. 

Snow hasn’t looked away so neither do I. 

The thought comes unexpectedly and I don’t know what to make of it. 

_We match._

I look away. I can’t keep my eyes locked on Snow with those kinds of thoughts in my head. 

Thoughts like the ones that would come to me when I was near mad with thirst and desperation while I was with the numpties. 

Blue eyes.

Bronze curls. 

The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive. 

That the image of him in my head was what kept me from succumbing to the darkness.

I don’t know what that means. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Mirror Man by the Human League


End file.
